Blood Curse
by winterslove
Summary: Grimmjow hated them. Wanted to kill everyone of those betraying parasites. But when he was a child it wasn't this way. He admired them. But that was before the vampires had killed off his whole town, his family. Grimmjow/Ulquiorra. not yaoi. sorry :
1. Hatred's Past

**This is my first grimmjow/ulquiorra story so i hope i don't disappoint!**

* * *

He hated them, everyone of them. Not one of those parasites deserved the life they were given, that eternal living of the damned_. Parasites they are_, thought Grimmjow. All _vampires are parasites. _Grimmjow propped himself up in his chair, cleaning the silver stake in his hands ominously. His electric-blue eyes stared in front of him, almost like he was trying to use them to scope any evil beings through the solid walls of his house.

Grimmjow had been brought up in Romania. He was taught to fear vampires, to never get near their vicious fangs. He was told stories by both old and young of how they were spawned from the devil himself, or by demon's suckling on the lingering soul of the passing dead, transforming them into an evil counter part of their former self. They told him how they would prey on all ages, not caring or regarding innocence. "No vigilantes they are, boy." a hag had once told him. Her fogged eyes still speared his memory to this day. They carried claws and skin of diamond on their carcasses, eyes cold enough to skewer you in your spot, and fangs long enough to rival that of a wolf's. All of these were warnings, preachings of caution, but being a boy he only learned reverence. He grew curious, wanting to know more. He thirsted for the thirsty. The town's people soon found out about his odd and sacrilegious interests and was soon coined the name of Grim. Grimmjow was never bothered by the name, being an odd child, he seemed to like it.

At the early stages of childhood, he ventured out to find his vampires. _Maybe they would talk to me._ He thought in fascination and naiveté. He thought of their glimmering fangs as he clawed through the dense forests. The warnings meant to drive him away from the monsters gave him only knowledge and a fascination in the beings. Using that 'knowledge' he had followed the town river, knowing that if he would encounter one he could determine it by the reflection- or rather the absence of a reflection.

Grimmjow halted to a stop when he had met a small clearing by the wide river. A young woman glided across the ground. Her bare-feet made no audible sound as she approached the lip of the water. Grimmjow slunk into the bushes as he peered out at the mysterious woman.

The woman's head quickly turned just an inch. Grimmjow struggled to swallow his gasp. The corners of her full lips seemed to pull up ever so slightly as she turned back to her administrations. Grimmjow exhaled silently in relief. He continued to watch, ready to confirm her a vampire.

The woman slid to her knees and scooped up a handful of the crystal water. Her midnight hair cascaded down her slim shoulder. Grimmjow was disappointed. She was definitely not one of the ugly vampires he was told about. His heart sunk to the pit of its chasm. He turned to leave when the woman laughed. His heart shot to the roof of his throat as he froze in his place.

"Why are you disappointed, young thing?" the melodic voice said.

Grimmjow only stood, his shock blue hair at end and his throat dry.

"Please, turn, poor boy."

Grimmjow found himself pulled towards the woman. Her voice was so melodic it seemed to pluck strings from his wrists and feet, commanding him to turn and eventually come. Grimmjow turned and met the face of an angel.

The woman had long waves of dark black hair passing to the mid section of her thighs. Her ice blue eyes were framed by fans of ebony lashes and porcelain skin. High, elegant cheekbones stood from her white skin and pouted lips colored her pale face a blush pink. A kind smile joined her cheeks as she curled one long finger in beckoning.

Grimmjow swallowed. He felt so transfixed. He wanted to come but he couldn't explain why. _Why should I explain? _He shuffled forward out of the shrubs. The woman's smile grew and her eyes twinkled as she took him in sweetly.

"What is your name?" she breathed.

A croak escaped his throat instead of words. He shrank back, shuffling his feet and bowing his head to hide the blush, too embarrassed to do anything further. He grimaced as the woman daintily giggled at his cute state.

"My name is Alycia."

Grimmjow looked up, opened and shut his small mouth a few times until he could stammer out. "M-my name is G-Grimmjow, m-ma'am." his eyes shot wide. He had never addressed an adult so properly before. This woman _was _transfixing.

"Mm…" she hummed. Grimmjow bit his lip as Alycia's crystal eyes traveled over his face. Her brow furrowed. "Why are you out here all on your own, Grimmjow?"

"Hunting vampires." his teal eyes widened as his small hands shot to his mouth. He ground his teeth. Why did he blurt that out. _I sound like such a snot-nosed kid! _He thought haughtily. He closed his eyes. Might as well progress. He sighed. "Haven't found any…" He turned his head, not wanting to meet her hypnotic eyes. She giggled again and he felt a vein pop in his forehead. Why'd he have to sound so pathetic?

"You haven't found any?" she asked unconvinced. "You don't count me?"

Grimmjow's eyes popped open and his head whipped towards Alycia. She smiled, showing two viper's teeth and stepped near the water. No reflection was shown on its surface. His jaw fell as he eyed her fangs. "Y-y-you're a-"

"Vampire. Yes. But," she cocked her head questioningly. "tell me, if you may, why would you be hunting vampires? Didn't your parents tell you I am dangerous?"

"Yeah, but I bet I can take you." Grimmjow said indignantly, his thin chest billowed out.

Alycia murmured a laugh. "I bet you can." Alycia started to turn towards the shore and beckoned Grimmjow further. "Come and sit with me." Grimmjow followed. He couldn't deny her, he almost felt indebted to her.

As he sidled down on the soggy loam, he and Alycia talked. She told him of their culture, how they had to drink blood for their needs, that it was their way of survival. She told him of how they could turn into bats. Alycia surprised him by bursting her large bat like wings from her back, flapping their velvet webs at him delightedly. He lay his head in her lap, letting her long nails comb comfortingly through his light cobalt hair. Sunset turned to dusk and dusk turned to night as they continued their chatter. They laughed and teased each other, mistakable for mother and son.

Grimmjow lay his head on Alycia's petite knee as he looked up into her glowing eyes, charmed. He was enamored by this woman, this vampire. He had made a friend. A vampire friend. Delight and lust for the future glittered in his eyes as he thought of he, the small 'grim' child, showing the town how vampires are good.

Everyday, he and Alycia would meet in the hollow. Their hollow they named it. The _Sumbra Guanos_. Grim Hollow. Each night they would tell tales of each other's lives, be it eight years or eight hundred years. They spun stories to each other of humans stealing from the rich and vampires of legend. He learned to love the night, needing it more than the day.

One morning he woke and deemed it the day. The day he would unveil the town to a new era, an era where vampires were beings and not monsters. Grimmjow pounced out of bed and down the stairs to his kitchen. He ran past his parents in a flurry of blue and into the town square holding a large metal spoon . He ran into the square where a small well spurt up from the cobbled ground. Placing his small foot onto a box, he stood on the ledge of the well, holding onto its tee-pee roof. He wound up the bucket and banged it with his spoon, drawing the attention of all the citizens in hearing radius.

"Come out!" he yelled.

People crowded around him, rubbing their eyes and fretting over their bed hair whilst glaring at him for the disruption. What could a small troubled child have to say.

Grimmjow cleared his throat. "Now I need to clarify something for all of you." he scoped his eyes around the crowd, making eye contact with everyone, including Capsun. He felt the flesh around his eyes crinkle as his eyes squinted into a glare. He hated that boy from his gangly feet to his shock orange hair. And when he hated something he hated it with passion.

Grimmjow and Capsun were known for their many tussles. Neither seemed to see eye to eye. One loved the color red, one never even had a preference. One had orange hair, one had blue hair. One liked eggs, one hated eggs. One loved justice and the right, one made it his doing and fulfillment in life to make mischief.

Grimmjow silently growled in his throat as he disconnected eye contact from the leech.

"Now," he continued. "I know that you believe vampires-" he was interrupted by a loud chorus of hisses. All together they sounded like a sizzling fire ready to burn any of the undead at command. "Shh! Be quiet!" the hisses died down and he continued. "But they're not- Shh! No! Stop! Listen to me! They're not. I've met one and-"

"You've _met one_, Grimmjow?" his mother bustled through the crowd, a cloud of disbelief set in her eyes.

"Yes. But she's nice. She's not ugly and she doesn't have yellow teeth and a putrid smell. She doesn't carry death with her." he spread his arms at either side of himself. "Aren't I alive?"

"But you could be one of _them_." Capsun retorted. He lifted one of his eyebrows and crossed his arms as in challenge.

"Then why'd I be in the sunlight, numb sack?" Grimmjow rolled his eyes as his mother yelled out his name in surprise, bowing her head behind a wall of her hair in embarrassment.

Capsun's face turned red and he pointed a finger at him, approaching the well. "Then you're prejudice too?"

"No, how'd I-"

"You told us all these 'lies' about vampires but they still are allergic to the sun? Why? Did your friend tell you that?"

"No, she didn't but-"

"You put all your trust into her like you favor her over your own mother." he pointed at his mother. She seemed to be electrified by the words, a rim of tears swelling in her eyes.

Grimmjow shook his head as his eyes switched from the evil brown ones below him to the hurt green ones in the crowd. "No. Mom, I'd-"

Capsun's eyes splintered shut as he got face to face with him. "Or maybe you want to become one of them." he spat out.

Grimmjow could only shake his head. This wasn't what he had in mind, nothing he had imagined. He wanted to shed new light on them, to let them know that they were safe and ignorant of the species they so blindly hated. That's all he wanted. But this was not. He only made it worse, only made it to the point where he'd never be able to see Alycia again. His heart sank slowly and painfully to his stomach. He just wanted to swallow it and rid himself of the worthless thing.

"Aha! See?" Capsun pointed at Grimmjow, turned at the crowd. "He's speechless." he turned back to face him with a cold mask shadowed on his face. "He does want to be a bloodsucker." As the crowd's yells pitched, Capsun's eyes darted towards the well, a gleeful smile on his face. He placed his hands on Grimmjow's chest. "Maybe we can tell if your dead or not if we can see you in _this_!" Before he could reach out for anything, he was pushed down into the depths of the well, sloshing in its cold water.

Laughter cruelly echoed down the tunnel, only magnifying its ghoulish sound. Yelps from his mother reached his ears as he started to sob. Water entered his airways and choked him. A small yap came from his parched lips when a dead frog nudged his shoulder. Its glassy eyes stared at him, dark with milky irises and a sick smile on its slimy lips. Its tongue stuck out at him like it was mocking him about meeting its own unfortunate fate of drowning.

Grimmjow floundered his way to the wall of the well. He clawed at the bricks for a grip but all were slick and covered with gooey moss. He didn't know how to swim and panic trapped his small heart as his head started to sink lower and lower. He yelped in horror as his head sank lower into the murky water. His head had passed the surface of the water and water was entering his lungs. _This is it. _He thought. A black film gauzed over the corners of his eyes just as a circular object scooped him around the buttocks and out of the water. He choked out water and squelched. His eyes pulled together as a pair of arms pulled him out and pressed at his chest. At the fourth pump, a flow of water spurted from his lips.

He coughed until every particle of that malicious liquid was out of his body. His eyes cleared and he looked up, ready to thank his mother. Except it wasn't her. It was a stranger. A stranger had saved him. He shakily stood and searched for his mother. It was silent, every one of the soundless citizens staring straight at him with glassy eyes. No care was held in those eyes. No sympathy.

He stepped forward and the first few people split for his pass like he was a terribly sick donkey. He walked through the shameful path that was made for him. He did not look up. He would have usually defiantly stuck his chin out and trooped on out but no, not this time. This time something in him had broken. His confidence.

He tripped and fell onto a man's leg, clinging on as to not fall to the rough ground. Leaning down with her mirrored eye was the old hag. She cackled and showed off her yellow uneven teeth, one hanging by a string of gum.

"Naughty, naughty kitty. Don't get in the water. It be mighty bad for you. At least you've got eight lives left at your pitiful disposal." she spat and cackled as he stared in terror at the wretch.

The man began to lightly shake his leg and Grimmjow staggered off. The last remaining people spread and he saw his parents. His mother was wrapped in his father's arms, crying into his broad chest. Both looked at him with eyes of sorrow and utter disappointment. They're faces masked those of the passing citizens, his own parents disowning him. His heart shattered as he clattered over to them, trying to pick up the pieces of his tattered heart.

His mother picked him up and followed her husband quietly into their home. She sat him down and watched as no emotion but hurt crossed over his pallid face. She disregarded it.

"How could you?"

Grimmjow looked up at his mother in astonishment and ignorance. "What?" his voice shook with emotion.

"How could you love a monster more than your own _mother?_" her voice rose, slamming her son back.

"Mother, I-"

"I don't want to hear a word from your lying mouth."

Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at his mother's straight face. Only one unbelievably emotional tone was set into her features. Hatred. She hated her son. Grimmjow let the tears fall onto his cheeks as she continued to stare at her son. Sadness overwhelmed him and a wrench at his heart made him sob out. The wrench turned into a tug and the tug turned into a harsh squeeze. Rage flooded into his heart and he calmed his voice.

"How could _you?_" He barked back.

A chillingly stern voice escaped her vocal chords. "Excuse me?"

"I said how could you?" Grimmjow repeated. "How could you believe another boy's words over your own son's? How could you let me drown in that well because of your own pathetic feelings for yourself? How _could you _ignore the hurt and pain I'm going through? How mother? How!" Tears welled in his pale eyes as he shot out the door. This time he ignored the calls of his parents, their pain. He didn't care. He was going to someone who did care about him.

When he entered _Sumbra Guanos, _it was still day. That meant he'd have to wait. Hours. But he didn't care. He needed her, he needed her reassurance. He needed a mother.

He curled up on the shore of the river and sat there, watching the fog limply float over the surface of the still water like weak ghosts ice skating on black marble. Hours passed and the only sound he heard were his own strangled sobs. Sleep soon followed and he was alone, waiting for dusk to come subconsciously.

A soft murmur broke his sleep barriers and a frosty touch chilled his shoulder.

"'Jow? 'Jow?"

Grimmjow awoke and turned to find Alycia peering down at him with concern.

"What are you-" her mouth opened and her brow furrowed in empathy as she saw the small glimmering orbs of tears at his eyes. Her soft hand trailed over his small cheek. "I thought I smelt salt." she brought her full lips down to his cheeks and kissed the trails of liquid away.

She brushed her hand through his hair and sat him on her lap. "What's wrong, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow broke out and told her everything, burying his head in her chest afterwards.

"Aw. Sweet, I'm so sorry. I wish there was a way I could help."

Grimmjow sat there, nuzzled at her chest and enjoying the vacancy of the annoying thrum of the heart. He wished she could too. He'd do anything to show how amazingly kind and affectionate vampires were. When a thought bubbled and blossomed beautifully into his mind.

"Alycia!" he gasped.

"Hm?"

"You think you could come to my town and encourage them to believe that your kind is good."

Alycia blinked. "I believe I could but don't you think they'd try and attack me?"

Grimmjow shook his head, his blue hair wiggling. "No because I'll protect you."

Alycia laughed. "Of course." she stroked her hand through her heroic friend's hair. "I'll bring some friends as well" she winked and he smiled as he caught a glimmer of red shutter across her iris like approaching lightning.

* * *

Grimmjow awoke the next morning to cheers. He smiled. They were here. The vampires. And the town was loving them. He sat in his bed surreally as he took in the whole situation. Everything had worked- He stopped in mid thought as the cheers morphed into something different, something terrifying. His blue eyes widened as he realized they weren't cheering: They were screaming.

Grimmjow burst through his bedroom door. No one was in the kitchen. He searched the whole cottage but no one was in sight. He steeled himself as he creaked the door open and slid out. He could had never imagined the sight that was before his eyes:

The cobbles were pecked with red and splattered walls of cottages were burning. People ran and were soon vanishing by some unseen force too fast for the human eye. Red eyes and hisses resonated from the alleys and shadows of helpless people danced across the walls in a tango of struggle against their captor. Ripping and screams nearly cracking his spine in two sounded from every which way.

Grimmjow couldn't understand. They were good. They were supposed to be good. Maybe they had criminals just like the human race did. But as he rekindled some kind of hope, it all vanished in a stroke as he saw an angel sink her teeth into the woman who bared him life.

He screamed out as everyone else's ceased. Alycia wouldn't do this. She was nice, she was his friend. She wouldn't kill his mother. Vomit rose and spilled as denial and nausea settled in from the stagnant stench.

Alycia regally lifted her head, her ivory fangs painted ruby. A wicked smile shown on her face as five other forms condensed around her. Two women, one of blonde hair and the other of red, and three men. One man looked rather young in comparison to the others, only the age of seventeen or eighteen. His stark white hair stood tousled against his parchment skin. Two hard, glimmering shards of teal eyes stared back at him like cool ice. His beautiful elegant features were downcast into a scowl like he was staring at scum, his pert nose turned up. Another man, obviously of power, stood next to Alycia. Long blue-black hair flowed past his shoulders and sinister shark eyes glimmered at the woman before him. He wrapped one of his ringed hands around her slim waist and turned. The women followed, flocking around the dark haired man, but Grimmjow caught another shadow cast in the rear. A dark haired man stood stoic, his white skin austere against his black hair. Acid green eyes solemnly looked back at him almost sadly.

Grimmjow could do nothing but stare as the beautiful faction of beasts turned to leave. The sad green-eyed one still stood. Why was this happening? How could this be happening? The bodies of his town lay around him, eyes all staring at him blankly. They had done this. Vampires. Lying, thieving vampires killed his family. A burst of anger surged through him. A yell ripped through his lungs as he ran with all his strength towards the monsters.

"How could you do this-" a choke cut off his cry as the white haired vampire flashed before him and curled his clawed hand around his throat, no emotion in his icy eyes. Grimmjow dangled helplessly as the crushing force exerted on his throat increased.

"Put it down, Dracul." a lazy voice called out. Dracul looked behind his lean shoulder at the dark haired leader. His eyes closed slightly into a glare and he returned his now blood red eyes to Grimmjow. Frustrated, he roughly through him down and hissed, turning on his heel.

Grimmjow choked and sputtered as he watched helplessly. His friend, his vampire friend, had betrayed him and torn down his whole family. He curled up and cried animalistic cries, wishing and praying to end this from happening ever again.

* * *

Grimmjow grunted and clicked his gun into his belt. _Bitchy memories._ He kicked open his door with his boot, whistling the funeral them while twirling the stake in his hand.

From fascinated child to slaying adult was the toll laid down on him from his ripped childhood. Love to hate. Mischief to radical justice. From that day he vowed to kill them, the coven that had killed his town.

He swiftly climbed over a fence to a graveyard, its spiked tops sharp enough to skewer through a pig's gut. He landed nimbly on the dark grass and shuffled through towards the middle of the labyrinth of graves, dew splashing up on his boots. The early dawn light shown through the weeping willows and a haze slithered through the graves, reminding him all too well of the _Sumbra Guanos. _He ripped and shredded the memory up in his mind for the umpteenth time.

Grimmjow jerked his head towards a quick sound of footsteps, sloppy. He sighed. Him again.

"Hey! You! You lousy blue-toned pig! Get out! Get-get out!" a wobbly man trotted up to him, lantern in tow and a large dog in his wake.

"I'm doing you a favor. So turn the other way with your.." he turned around and eyed the strange dog coming at him. "That." he cockily turned his head and continued his way.

"Hmph! Don't you be insultin' my Brossard! You-"

A hard crack echoed through the woods as Grimmjow's fist connected with the man's chin. He flopped to the ground next to his dog completely unconscious with his jaw set awkwardly. The dog barked up at Grimmjow but soon halted when he turned around and met him eye to eye.

"Ugh. Idiots." he trudged on through until he came up to a large crypt-like burial house. The Trojan horse of a vampire. The door was only stone so it proved easy to crack open and sneak into to kill the snoozing leech. The cavernous sound of water dripping onto wet rock reached his perked ears as he entered the structure. Only one torch lay at the middle of the room, the only sign of decoration besides a coffin. _Scum. Why'd you keep fire next to you, you combustible piece of shit? _Grimmjow quickly shuffled towards the coffin and unceremoniously kicked the top off.

A languidly sleeping man lay in it, claws on his long boney fingers. No signs of age showed on his handsome face and a wave of cropped golden hair sat at his head. Grimmjow grimaced like he was picking up a maggot as he lifted the upper lip with one finger. A fang glittered darkly as the fire light hit it. Grimmjow grunted and took out his stake. He drove it down easily and fully through the beast. The vampire lunged forward, pain in its red eyes and screeching in agony as its hands writhed and clawed at the air. Grimmjow stood in front of its eyes, wanting it to know who and what had killed it. The vampire's eyes slit in fury and disgust and a hiss echoed through its teeth as it fell back, finally and rightfully dead.

Grimmjow threw the torch into the coffin and watched it burn like he had watched his town burn. A disgusted smile stretched his lips, making him look like a murderous Cheshire cat. That was his thousandth kill but not one of the kills he had wanted, that he treasured and so lustily wanted. He had been searching years for the coven that had killed his family but no luck had ever erected in him. Alycia and her coven, her mate, Dionis, the white haired Dracul, blonde Cerise, the beautiful Mirabella, and the mysterious Ulqua. The faces, the beautifully monstrous faces of those horrid beings flooded his mind night and day and they would never leave, only when the time had come for their immortal lives to finally end. Time, he knew, was running out and the only knowledge he had come upon was their names. He was nowhere near to finding and exorcising the demons. But he wouldn't give up and he was not going to die before those monsters had, every single one of them.

_

* * *

_

**So there we go! This is my unedited version and i, along with the rest of my other stories, will edit and hopefully make improvements to it. I'm not exactly sure i like this one too much:) feels kinda choppy but it would be impossibly long if i went into detail and mental thought through grimmjow. Oh and don't take offense about the vampire bashing, i actually like them just thought it would be an interesting fanfic so no hard feelings and i hope you liked it! X3**


	2. Punches

Grimmjow scrubbed his hands vigorously. The weathered and beaten flesh felt callous and rough as he watched the grey water cleanse the near-black blood of the vampire he had just slain. He winced away at the pungent smell as a glob of residue plopped and boiled in the silver sink. He turned the faucet off and huffed to the small couch in the middle of his cottage. The house was not near anyone's expectation of a slayer's house. Dank and all of wood, Grimmjow had to keep a constant eye out for maggots and night beetles in the damp walls. The roof was mostly made out of weaved hay and uneven boards of cedar. All of the furniture was dull and near torn up from its owner's reckless behavior. But despite the weak and frail exterior, it held up pretty well and everyone knew to not venture to close to its doors.

Grimmjow was very much known for his temper and his ill manners toward people. Of course he was doing a good cause for the people around him but the saving of their lives when they got in danger was the part that ticked him off the most. The weak excuses of humanity that littered this God forsaken town were the worst. They'd frolic aimlessly around, scared out of their wits of the night creatures that stalked them, thinking that one step too close to those jaws would be anyone's imminent death. _What women_, he thought. So weak willed, so damned they should all and will be. They had completely forgotten that _he_ was the proof that they are more powerful than those demons. He had a headcount of at least thirty vampires dead at his hands.

Grimmjow smirked to himself. That was right, he was the one that excelled his race- even earning a few rumors and stories telling that he himself wasn't human, some cross bread between the two or some animal.

Animal was almost too accurate: unnatural blue hair tangled up in wolf like pines, seeming to raise like hackles when he got mad and primeval blue eyes that could stop a lion its tracks. But one of the smallest but most outstanding of his traits that stood out to the majority were the two pale white scares that lined each eye right beneath the bottom lid. They curved around the contour of his eyes like high whiskers and deep enough to make a gaunt shadow in moonlight. He earned these from a long battle with the one white haired vampire, -, that he had hunted down in the snowy summits. He had dealt him a nice blow to the collar bones but in return he had scraped each eye with symmetry. As rash as his decisions could be, he was not stupid. The small, lithe, almost fairy like frame of – was all but kind and gentle. He had seen that same body woo small deer to isolated caves and tear them apart like petals on a flower.

He self consciously raised a hand to his scares and vaulted off the couch in a huff. He put on his boots and opened the door. His house was on the outskirts of the town, all too similar to his position in its social status. He had planned to move from it after the attack that had happened at least fifteen years ago, but decided not. He knew that if that coven was his main target then the ideal tactic was to stay at their turf. The cottage rested on a shallow hill that rolled all the way down towards the town, a dirt road lead to his house and a mixture of weeping willows and shrubs obscured its view from the villagers below.

As his eyes surfed the land below him, he caught sight of a small flame of hair. Brown eyes grappled his and rage filled Grimmjow. The pup had come again. Grimmjow and Ichigo had a deep hate for each other, Grimmjow the reason. They learned to hate and dislike what the other liked even if it came down the simplest things like colors or food. Ichigo wore nice clothes, consisting of vests and shiny shoes, while Grimmjow preferred the more open and portable ones like ripped shirts and boots. But one thing that they undoubtedly had in common was that they loved to fight.

Once Ichigo had made his way up the hill, Grimmjow snorted. "Watcha want?"

Ichigo sniffed, looking him up and down. "Not a fight but a talk. If your capable of tha."

"Well," Grimmjow chuckled. "I'm the one that's not capable of talk and I guess that makes you," he pointed his finger roughly into Ichigo's shoulder for emphasis. "The one not capable of fighting."

Ichigo growled and threw a punch at Grimmjow's jaw. Bones collided and a large crack resonated around them. Grimmjow looked at Ichigo, panting in rage. He started to laugh.

Ichigo looked at him with confusion. "What are you.."

Grimmjow continued to laugh, holding an arm at his gut. He abruptly stopped and straightened, a fierce glow in his cobalt eyes. He sighed. "Quite the punch right there, my boy, but you're gonna need to try better than that to keep up. Won't be earning any leg with that kind of a rubber arm you got there." Grimmjow smiled wolfishly and spat on Ichigo's shoes. Ichigo raised his fist, an insult cocked on his lips. Grimmjow grinned and pointed to his jaw.

"Hit me. Right here."

Ichigo curled his lip over his teeth, tension seeping into his features. His face lightened, his fist lowered. Ichigo shook his head and tracked his steps back down the hill, facing Grimmjow all the while. He opened his mouth and cried, "You're the one that's less man, Grimmjow! You're nothing but an animal!" Ichigo roughly turned around and sped down the hill towards the town.

Grimmjow snickered. The child really knew how to run and hurl the curses, just not a punch. He headed back into the cottage, taking a piece of hard jerky and chewing it like a wolf. His stomach growled out in impatience and he gulped down the rest of his supply of meat. His stomach persistently clenched in his body, rumbling and whining every few seconds. Grimmjow husked away madly to his bedroom.

Shotguns, assorted knives, and animal heads hung around the room. Dirty, rusty knives sat on the dull surface of a desk, chewed up by the termites that infested this place. The bed in the far back was very large but very low. The top reached the mid part of his shin and a deep crater of where he slept was lodged into its mid section. A small knife and silver hand gun was wedged into one of its shelves on its mantle. At least he knew he had enough ammunition to be able to gut and shoot about a thousand criminals that decided to stray into his house.

But then again, he was always a stray mind to think that he was never safe, he never had another there for him. Those emotions to him were petty but he couldn't lie to himself like an oaf. He really did miss his family and the what used to be friendly town. After that God forsaken bastard Ichigo had sent his word and judgment about him the whole town revolted and shuddered socially away from him. Sad, kinda. Mad, yes. He definitely relished in the fact that all of those people regarded him so highly and feared him but it was also a thorn in his side. He felt obliged to let people know that what he did was not just for him (even though about ninety percent was) he also did it for them, for people that wouldn't even bother with the sight of him being eaten alive by the things he protected from them unceasingly.

Grimmjow sighed and threw himself into the nook of his bed. If force couldn't show people what he meant, than nothing will, God forbid speech would do anything. What a worthless aspect.

He closed his lids over his eyes and folded his arms around his head and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of solace and stakes.


End file.
